Hello, everyone! This is just a small one-shot I thought I'd post. Enjoy!

It beach was deserted that day. Whatever had possessed her to go down there? She never had before gone by herself, her brothers always kept her company. But something had beckoned to her, something out in the fog that rose from the harbour.

The pebbles rolled under her feet as she pushed forward. Perhaps if she was lucky and looked hard enough she would find a colour piece of sea glass washed up by the rolling waves for her sister. She knew the pieces of glass were only from bottles thrown into the sea by sailors, but she always told her sister stories of how it they had been jewels in the crowns of forgotten queens or presents from mermaids.

Gulls cried overhead, made invisible by the low hanging sky. She felt enclosed with the ceiling of clouds and the fog surrounding her.

The small pebbles soon gave way to sand, softly crunching under her feet. She detested the sand, it was a nuisance. Her brothers tracked it through their house, leaving it deep between the floorboards for her to clean. It clung to her sister's clothes and body, leaving a thick layer at the bottom of the tub.

She lifted her skirts high to keep them from dragging. They were immodestly high, but no one would see her through the thick fog. It comforted her, surrounding her like a warm, safe blanket.

The sound of the waves breaking on the beach grew louder as she drew closer to the ocean. She kept her eyes on the ground searching for her sister's small treasures. Ah, there was a piece of red glass only steps away. Walking over to it she bent down, her hand stopping short, hovering above it. It was not glass laying on the sand, but blood. Red, wet blood.

The girl stood, her next breath caught in her throat. Her eyes drifted to the right where more small drops of the liquid were. Cautiously she followed them until through the fog she could see an object. No, not an object, but a body. It was a man lying face down. She dropped to her knees next to him, the water from the damp sand soaking into her skirts.

His body was heavy as she placed her hands on his wet torso and rolled him over. She gaped. He had the most handsome face she had ever laid eyes on. His dark hair clung to his finely shaped cheekbones. She reached out and pushed it away, bringing her hand away in shock. A large gash went across his forehead, bleeding profoundly. She could see what would be the startling white skull under the bloody mess. The wound was near fatal. He was struggling to gather his breath, his chest slowly rising and falling.

Her hand came up to his cheek, softly caressing it. Her mind screamed at her to go get help, that there might be a small chance he could be saved. But she didn't get up. She didn't run into the village creaming for somebody – anybody – to help her. She didn't want to remove herself from his side. Something about him absolutely captivated her. She wanted to keep him to herself – he would be her secret. She wouldn't have to ever share him with anyone.

Her eyes scanned over his body, stopping at his large hand. She took it up between her own and admired the lovely ring on his ring finger. A thick gold thing with a beautiful S engraved into it. Was it a family ring? She wandered, one given to him by his father? Shelton, Strut, Stevens. She merely hummed as she struggled to pull it from his finger. His hands were swollen from the time he had spent in the water, making it difficult for her to dislodge the ring. There, she pulled it loose and slipped it onto her thumb, the only appendage it would fit. If her brothers asked, she would claim to have found it lying on the beach – which was true.

Her eyes continued down his body. She reached into the small pouch attached at his hips. Sopping paper met her fingers, falling to pieces as she tried to unfold it. What had been on it? What had been so important for him to carry it on his person? Perhaps it was a letter from his mother. How would she feel to know her son lay dying on a beach in the arms of a strange woman? Or was it a letter from his love? Anger boiled inside of her, thinking of the girl who could have penned this letter. Why did it matter? He was hers now.

"What is your name?" she whispered, tracing her fingertips over his chin. Of course he wouldn't answer; he was so close to death. She could see the life seeping from his body. Gingerly lifting up his head, she placed it in her lap, quietly humming a soft melody her mother used to put her and her siblings to sleep. Was he suffering? No, God would never let a creature this beautiful feel pain.

If they had met in a different circumstance, would he have loved her? If his boat had taken port at the small dock, would he have even looked her way? They would have made a lovely couple. Their children would have been beautiful little things. Their days would be filled with laughter and love. Perhaps then it would be her letter he carried with him. The sudden love she felt for this man was unlike any she had ever felt before.

A soft moan came from between his cracked lips. It was more beautiful than any song she had ever heard. "Are you awake, my darling?" she asked, letting a small smile grace her lips.

That's what she would have called him if he was hers, my darling and he would have called her my love. But he did not answer her. She was fine with his silence; it made it easier for her to love him. Words were dreadful things that ruined precious moments.

She wondered what colour his eyes were. Perhaps blue like the summer sky or green like the spring grass.

The day suddenly went still; the wind stopped and the sea grew still. The man's breathing had ceased.

"Goodnight, my darling." She leaned forward and placed her lips on his cold, lifeless ones. Their first and only kiss.

The next few moments were a blur to her as she stood and pulled his heavy body towards the ocean. She kept a tight grip to him once the water grew deeper, not yet ready to let him go. His body floated next to her as she stood waist deep in the cold waves. Letting go of him she gave his body a push. Slowly he left her.

She walked out of the water, her skirts now heavy with the salty substance. Soon his body would sink into the depths of the sea and then resurface in about a week's time. Making her way up the beach something caught her eye. A brown piece of sea glass. She scooped it up, running her fingers over the smooth object. Her sister would be happy with her find.

Okay, you're probably thinking, 'Dafuq did I just read?' This was actually based on a writing prompt (something along the lines of 'the beach was deserted...'). It's strange, I know, and I think the girl is a bit mad, but it makes for an okay read, haha. Let me know what you thought of it, my lovelies!